


Duct Tape & Superglue

by nomelon



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Bromance, Bromance to Romance, Epic Bromance, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt Jack, Hurt/Comfort, It's For a Case, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sleeping Together, Team, best spies or whatever ever, i love you man, minor PTSD, no i love you more man, oh what feeling is this?, on the job peeing, ro-bromance, serious professionals, totally professional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 15:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14023218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomelon/pseuds/nomelon
Summary: Jack gets abducted, Mac goes a little nuts, and afterwards Jack has trouble sleeping. Plus they are the bestest professionals ever, as usual.





	Duct Tape & Superglue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This started out sort of mostly serious, but then a while back Jack got tortured and truth-serumed on the show and all they did was hug it out, and they kept being Mac and Jack and whatever it is passes for being a sorta-kinda-spy-whatever in their world, and it got a lot less serious. They seem to do that to me a lot. I mean, c'mon, they just Indiana Jonsed themselves but in a porta-loo instead of a fridge. Lucky nobody had used it first, huh, boys? Then there was talk of Jack peeing his pants for some on the job lubrication (no, really). So I think at this point anything goes.
> 
> Beta: thank you to spurklie, who read in a fandom she knows little about just to help me out.

Mac goes in against Matty's explicit instructions to wait for backup. He's got Riley hardwired into the building, running interference for him and giving him directions in his ear as he goes down and down through the levels. The place is solid concrete, all muted grey paint and firewalls he could never hope to get through without Riley's help. He has a taser and a beanbag gun, but his rifle is hot and he has a handgun strapped to his flak jacket. He takes two of them out with the taser, then shoots to incapacitate, to kill if he has to: doesn't second guess, doesn't waste time looking for another way around.

It's been three weeks with no new intel. Three weeks since the bombs in downtown.

Three weeks since they took Jack. Three weeks of video messages that made Mac want to tear his own skin off.

Riley opens the last door for him and reminds him, again, that time is of the essence and he has to haul ass before the next wave of bad guys makes it to their location.

The room stinks of piss and fear. Jack's strapped to the table, one eye swollen shut.

Jack lifts his head and his fuck-you expression melts away into one of relief. "Mac," he croaks. "About damn time."

Mac lets out a breath that's half-sob and half-laughter. He pulls out his knife and cuts the plastic ties holding Jack's wrists and ankles to the table, wincing at the dried blood.

"Can you walk?"

"I don't rightly know. Let's give it a whirl and see what happens."

He gets Jack into a sitting position and pulls out a bottle of water. Jack's good eye closes when he drinks, remembering to sip and breathe, sip and breathe.

"Ready?"

Jack nods, but crumples when Mac pulls him to his feet.

"Mac, they're nearly there," Riley says in his ear. "You guys need to move. You have maybe a ten minute window to get back to the transport." Mac doesn't need the reminder. "How is he?"

"He's okay," he says, and Jack smiles, realising who he's talking to. "He's going to be just fine."

"Good." Riley's voice wavers, but only for a second. "Now, get your asses out of there."

"Jack, we need to move."

Jack nods. He slings an arm around Mac's shoulders and they move.

 

\---

 

The flight home is military grade, and way, way under the radar, but they're met at the airport by medical who wheel Jack across the tarmac to what looks like a nondescript white van but is kitted out like an ambulance inside. They hook him up to monitors and bags and clean up his superficial injuries. They arrive back at Phoenix where he's swiftly admitted for observation, bloodwork sent off for a million tests, doctors ushering him into their state-of-the-art medical unit.

They suffer through Matty's lecture about the importance of waiting for backup and following direct orders, and the stupidity of getting abducted by terrorists when you're fully aware that there are terrorists coming to abduct you. Jack's in the wheelchair an orderly made him sit in, so it's easy enough for her to lean in with no warning and give him a brief, fierce hug.

Jack's eyes are wide and his jaw looks pretty wobbly when she pulls back, but she holds up a hand before he can speak.

"You're taking a leave of absence. One month, no arguments."

"Matty, that's a little--"

"One month, Jack. And you're going to talk to Dr Lebani."

"Matilda--"

She stares him down. "You're going to talk to her openly and without reservation. If she asks you about what happened in that room, you will respond. If she asks you about your childhood, you will respond. No arguing, no complaining, and -- I cannot stress this enough -- absolutely zero Bruce Willis movie plots masquerading as your real life. Are we clear?"

Jack frowns at her, bottom lip stuck out, but he gives a tiny nod and doesn't say anything further.

Jack gets a private med bay and bitches about the TV and the spotty WiFi. Mac brings him grapes (organic, from a farmer's market he drives an hour out of his way to get to) and lets Jack pretend like he's completely fine. They watch ball games and music videos and play Battleships on scraps of yellow notebook paper.

Jack's test results come back. His blood-work is mostly clear, the remains of what they gave him working its way out of his system. There's a mild infection but the broad spectrum antibiotics are doing their thing, nothing contagious or chronic, no internal bleeding or broken bones save for two fingers on his left hand and three cracked ribs. He has some serious bruising and swelling on his face and ribs that they're monitoring closely.

On the second day, Mac says, "So, do you want to talk ab--"

"Nope. Now, pass me the remote. There's a CSI marathon on."

Mac pulls a face. "Their procedures can be highly theoretical and don't really work like that in real life, y'know."

"I like it. It's relaxing, and they always get their man."

"But it's so--"

"Mac! It's that or an X-men movie. Gimme."

Mac passes him the remote.

On the third day, Jack insists he's had enough and is leaving. Mac thinks about arguing but ends up driving Jack home. He offers to spend the night, but Jack waves him off.

Mac doesn't hear from him for a week.

Mac and Riley do a couple of milk runs -- a simple bait and switch that gets slightly less simple when it turns out the rogue agent is actually identical twins. Then Mac sneaks into a building to hardwire them into a closed system so Riley can hack it from a distance but there's this whole thing with a disgruntled ex-SEAL turned consultant and a weird booby-trapped treasure map with some kind of moral of the story about the inherent evil of two-party governments... and Mac commiserates, he really does, but shuts the guy down within the hour -- and things go well, better than well, but without their muscle as backup and no one else they trust to fill the role, they're left cooling their heels more often than not.

Mac's okay with that. His head's not in the game right now anyway. He runs a couple of online seminars for the Phoenix staff. He helps out with Bozer's on-going initiation and training. Bozer chatters through his sessions but learns fast, always asking questions and eager for ever more information about Phoenix, Mac's unedited past, and exactly how many highly classified secrets Riley can get her hands on in a few keystrokes.

A week to the day since Mac last heard from Jack, Mac is woken from a deep sleep when his mattress dips under the weight of another body. He sits bolt upright -- fight or flight kicking in -- but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

"Just a dream, Mac."

"Jack?" Mac rubs at his eyes, his heart slowing down. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, man. Go back to sleep."

"But you're here."

"I just came to sleep."

"In my bed."

"It's softer than the floor."

There's a long pause because, really, Mac isn't awake enough for this. "You're really weird."

"Your face is really weird."

"Are you okay?"

"'m fine. Go back to sleep."

"No, I mean, are you really okay? Missed you, man."

There's another pause, and a sigh. "I will be. Just lemme sleep here awhile, okay?"

Mac thinks about very nicely saying no. He thinks about turning on the light and asking Jack what's really going on with him. He thinks about telling him to go get into Bozer's bed in the middle of the night with no warning and see how he likes it. What he actually does is sink back into the pillows, roll over and go back to sleep.

When he wakes up, the bed is empty and he's pretty sure it was just a really weird dream, except when he wanders out, feeling bleary and looking for coffee, Jack is in the kitchen frying eggs and bacon. He looks better. The swelling has gone down but his eye is ringed with mottled yellow and purple bruising, flecks of blood around the iris. The spatula he’s holding in his damaged hand doesn't seem to be causing him any problems.

"Don't want to talk about it," he says before Mac can even say good morning. He sounds cheerful enough but Mac's not buying it.

"Jack, it's fine, really, but don't you think you should--"

Jack looks up. "You think this is my first rodeo? It's not even my fourth. Fifth if you could that thing in Borneo, which I don't because _amateurs_." He sets a mug of coffee down in front of Mac. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to share. I really and truly don't. I just wanted to sleep."

"Uh huh."

Jack pouts a little, grumpy, scowling down at the eggs. "Somewhere I felt safe."

Mac takes a gulp of coffee and burns his tongue. "I make you feel safe."

"Ain't you the lucky one." He wraps some bacon in a hunk of bread and tears off a chunk with his teeth. "Gimme the ketchup."

Mac makes a face but passes it over.

 

\---

 

Two nights later he wakes up around daybreak wrapped around a large, warm body. The body is moving away from him, or trying to.

"Ugh," Jack says. "Sweaty teddy bear."

"You're the one in my bed." Mac's nose is touching the hair at the back of Jack's head. It's really soft, so Mac nuzzles into it, then realises that's a thing he probably shouldn't be doing and pulls back.

Jack is lying very still. "Fine, so I'll go."

Mac doesn't open his eyes. He lets go to turn over and lie on his back. "Don't be stupid. It's fine. Weird, but fine. But just wait till one of us gets morning wood."

"Dude."

"Hey, my bed, my rules."

"Morning wood is a rule?"

"Thinking of making it one."

"You're going to need to get that shit laminated and framed for it to be official."

Mac frowns without opening his eyes. "My morning wood?"

Jack sounds pained. "Oh my god, _no_ , dumbass. We should never talk uncaffeinated ever, ever again."

"Noted," Mac says, and goes back to sleep.

 

\---

 

Through sheer stubbornness and force of will, they make it through another long, slow two weeks before Jack announces he's going back to work. He even goes to see Dr Lebani, as ordered, a grand total of twice, although Mac would put good money on him having bullshitted his way through both sessions, throwing in highlights from a few of Willis' lesser known works as filler. Maybe Stallone. Whatever works in a pinch.

They get an emergency call: a hostage situation for a foreign diplomat demanding the utmost discretion. The family want nothing to do with any American law enforcement and are highly irritated that the diplomat's intern thought to inform them. The family are insisting on paying the ransom, even though it's clear to everyone else that this leaves them with zero options for retrieval if it all goes south and is probably just going to get the diplomat killed.

Mac opens his mouth to ask Jack if he's up for it, but Jack gives him a _look_ , so Mac drops it.

They make the drive out to a very impressive mansion and get ushered in to a study by an honest-to-god butler who looks extremely put out by all the grubby Americans getting free access to the house. The family is in the enormous living room, the mother perched on the edge of an armchair, the adult son and daughter on the sofa looking sullen and untrusting. The wife offers them coffee and shows them where they can plug in their equipment. The Phoenix team listen to the family's story and ask their questions. They watch the ransom video again and, surreptitiously, the family's reactions to it: the father holding up a newspaper and listing the kidnapper's demands, looking scared but unhurt. Riley does her thing, knee-deep in code, trying to find something useful.

Jack gives Mac a nod and Mac follows him out of the room.

"So, are you thinking the son set this whole thing up?" Jack says the second they're alone in a dining room that seats twenty. "We gotta get Riley to get eyes and ears on him, hack his laptop, his phone, the works."

Mac nods. "His body language is all over the place and he's lying through his teeth about _something_."

"Plus that huge insurance payment coming to him if his dad kicks the bucket was kind of a tip-off."

They make the call to Riley, whispering their instructions, which she replies to with a lot of "mm hmms" and the sound of fingers moving on a keyboard. Plan in motion, they're heading back to rejoin their group when the daughter steps out from behind a tapestry and throws a marble bust at Jack's head that he only just manages to block with his arm. She swings a solid dining chair at Mac and he leaps out of the way, getting tangled in the floor to ceiling velvet drapes. Jack catches her on the backswing and uses the heft of the chair against her to knock her to the floor.

"So I get the feeling we may have missed a pertinent piece of the puzzle."

Mac's eyes open wide. "You think?"

The daughter flips to her feet, kicks off her heels, rips the side of her tight pencil skirt, and Jack has his work cut out for him. Mac disentangles himself and looks around for anything he could use to help Jack. There's the sound of kicks and punches and grunts of pain from both parties.

"Jesus, girlie girl, you have hidden depths!"

"You should not have come here. This is a private matter!"

"What can I say, we're good like that. Starting to rethink the whole helping your family out thing, though."

There's a loud crash and Mac arrives a few seconds too late with his weighted curtain ties to see Jack on top of the daughter on the floor, repeatedly punching her in the face.

"Jack, woah, stop, we're good. She's out."

Jack pauses, his fist in the air, and drops his hold on the daughter. "Did you see those moves, man? I mean the muscles, yeah, but I thought maybe she was just a workout buff, but this chick is hardcore. I think I peed my pants a little over here."

The words are right, but Jack's eyes are wild and Mac's getting this sense of need, a little desperation, shrouded in Jack's own brand of humour, the one he wears like a shield. He's keeping his body between Mac and the girl, always protecting, always trying to keep Mac out of the line of fire.

Mac gets that tickle behind his breastbone, that itch in his fingertips. His gaze drops to Jack's mouth. "Jack, I'm gonna--"

Jack licks his lips, and there's this _moment_ , but he shakes his head and darts back out of Mac's space. "See this right here is how perfectly good working relationships get totally screwed up."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I know that look. I invented that look. I'm well aware of what that look means."

Mac scratches the back of his head, busted. "You saying you don't want to?"

Jack's cheeks flush pink. "When have I ever shown even the slightest interest in doing what you're talking about doing with dudes?" he hisses.

"Well, there was that time in Phnom Penh."

"He was very pretty and very competent and _very well disguised_."

"But you went through with it."

Jack's mouth falls open, indignant. "I was _invested_."

"And that time in Berlin."

"Ha! We had that contact high going on after that drugs shipment went boom and I'd just managed not to die, like, three, four times in one night. All that energy had to go _somewhere_."

"And you and I have always had that... thing."

"What thing?"

"That _thing_." Mac rubs his forehead. "Look, are you saying you don't want to? Like, really don't want to? Which is fine, it's just... I'm surprised. And feeling kind of stupid."

"I'm saying... I'm saying it's not happening."

This really isn't going how Mac expected. "I guess I thought with all the climbing into my bed an' all..."

"So I get _tortured_ and go through a little minor PTSD and you think that's, what? A come-on technique?"

He's not properly angry, he's bitching and deflecting like Jack always does, but this is clearly cutting close to the bone. He sounds almost really pissed, and while half of Mac thinks he actually has an excellent point, the other half is still hung up on the fact that Jack's coping mechanism has been bed-sharing and late night cuddling for _weeks_ now. It's not an easy knot to untangle.

"You're right. You're very, very right. I'm sorry. You can sleep with me… uh, at my place as long as you want, okay? As long as it takes."

Jack's scowl doesn't disappear but it eases. "Deal. Can we go tell Matty we caught the bad guy now?"

Mac looks down at the unconscious daughter because, oh yeah, work.

"I still think the brother's in on it too. This is a really, really weird family. And we don't know where the father is yet or who's holding him."

Jack tilts his head, considering. "You think anybody heard us?"

Mac gives a little shrug. "Hard to say. Most everybody's in the study and this entire building is basically solid mahogany, so who knows." He pulls out his phone and sends off a text to Riley who comes back in a few seconds with a bunch of question marks and exclamation points and a negative to the entire household being alerted to the fact that they just had a fistfight with the daughter. He sends back another text telling her their theory and to keep eyes on the son and she sends back a thumbs up emoticon.

"Okay, we're good. Let's see if she comes up with anything." He pockets his phone and raises his chin at the unconscious daughter. "What do we do with her in the meantime? Would it be really wrong to suggest tying her up and stashing her somewhere? I just bet this place has a wine cellar."

The corner of Jack's mouth lifts. "I love it when you talk subterfuge."

Mac feels a little better, back on solid ground. "Gimme that curtain tie. And your shoelaces."

 

\---

 

"This family is so messed up I don't even know where to start. I can't believe the _father_ was the mastermind behind it all." Jack walks out of the house, shaking his head. "Master-dumbass. Imagine getting your kids involved in something like this. I don't get people."

They crunch over the gravel and Riley grunts as she hefts a bag into the back of their SUV. "Bankruptcy will make a man do strange things."

"I feel sorry for his wife," says Mac. "She just lost her whole family and most of her fortune."

"She can visit," Riley says. "And I took a look at their financials. Everything that's left is in her name. That's probably why he was pulling this scam in the first place."

Jack shakes his head in disgust. "Wasting our time, if you ask me. Do you guys ever find some of our jobs... kinda stupid?"

The others pause, thinking. "Sometimes," Riley says, her bottom lip sticking out, "I guess."

Mac tilts his head. "But sometimes people are stupid."

Jack nods. "Never a truer word. Man, I could murder a beer."

Mac claps him on the back. "So let's go get you a beer. Riley, you in?"

She's busy loading the last of her gear into the truck but turns to them, squinting in the late afternoon sun. "Sorry, guys. Dad's taking me to the movies."

Jack raises his chin. "Elwood playing nice?"

"Been on his best behaviour."

"Glad to hear it."

"You want to come with? Seeing as how you and he are best buds now."

Jack's face tries and fails not to show his aversion to the idea. "I'm good, thanks."

Riley grins. "Raincheck, gotcha."

There's a game on in the bar near Mac's place, loud and crowded, so instead they pick up a six pack and head up to the apartment to sit in the last of the day's sun on the terrace. Jack slips on his aviators and takes off his hoodie, and Mac sees there's a huge, dark bruise on his arm from his fight earlier.

"Jesus, Jack, you didn't say anything. Are you okay?"

Jack barely glances down. "Fine. 'snothing."

Mac flounders. He takes a long swallow of his beer, then goes to get some ice and wraps it in a towel.

Jack hisses when he gently presses it to the bruise. "Dude, I said I was fine."

"I just need to know that you're okay." Mac puts a cushion under the arm so it's propped up a little.

Jack's face twists, both annoyed and touched. Mac gets the impression he's being weighed, measured, and found pretty damn transparent.

"Mac, I appreciate the kid gloves, really, but this... it’s all part of the job description. You know that. If I wasn't already screwed up before those assholes got their hands on me, then a couple of days in their little shop of horrors wasn't going to do it."

Mac hates it -- _hates_ it -- that this is something near normal for Jack, something he'd had to learn to live with long before Mac was even on the scene. He scowls down at the floor, his vision hot and blurred.

"Hey, now." Jack nudges under Mac's chin with his knuckle. "Hardly seems fair if I have to talk you through my personal trauma."

Mac lets out a snort. He glances up. "I kinda love you, y'know?"

Jack smiles, a little surprised, a little smug. "I kinda know it."

The sun dips lower in the sky and they send out for pizza. Mac doesn't ask and Jack doesn't mention it, but as night falls, Jack is still there and getting twitchier by the minute.

"Look, it's fine," Mac says when he can't take Jack's one word answers a moment longer. "You can... sleep over."

"That's not... I didn't..." Jack goes through an interesting array of facial expressions. Eventually he sighs. "Yeah, that would be good."

Mac gives him a t-shirt and shorts to sleep in, and finds him a toothbrush. They climb into bed and Mac snaps off the light. They lie elbow to elbow, staring at the ceiling.

"It's only weird if you make it weird," Mac says eventually, because he has to say _something_.

"No, I'm pretty sure it's weird all by itself."

"Well, you could always go out and wait till I'm asleep then sneak back in again."

"Oh, because _that's_ not weird."

Mac huffs out a breath and turns on his side. He nudges and prods until he has Jack tucked up in the curve of his body, one arm wrapped around him, their legs tangled together. Jack still feels tense so Mac shuffles in closer. "I'm right here," he says around a yawn. "Not going anywhere."

He tries to keep his eyes open, but as Jack relaxes against him and his breathing turns slow and even, Mac sinks down and down until he's out.

 

\---

 

"For the last time, I am _not_ peeing my pants for you in the line of duty!" Jack shouts over the howling wind.

"So you'd pee them for me if you were off duty?"

Jack glares at him through the whirling snow and tucks his hands into his armpits, though he's only delaying the inevitable.

"Jack, if we stay out here much longer, we are going to _die_. We're out of options," Mac says. "I can't feel my fingers. If I can't link up this circuit to open the doors..."

"All right, all right. I get it. So you really want me to pee on _you_. That's so much better."

"Jack! We have minutes, if we're lucky. If we don't get inside, we're done. You get me? Now pee on my hands!"

"Why can't you pee on your own damn hands!?"

"Because I'm trying right now and nothing's happening, okay!? I peed before we left. Don't you pee before missions?"

"This is a really stupid argument!"

"Yes, because _it could kill us if you don't just do it and let me open the damn door_!"

"Fine!"

It takes Jack a couple of tries but he unfastens his pants. He makes an unhappy huffing as the biting wind hits his newly exposed bare skin but he takes himself in hand and manages to direct the flow over Mac's fingers.

Mac is too cold and too worried to be grossed out. It's a burning warmth, and the cold sets in again almost immediately, but it gives Mac the few seconds of dexterity he needs to complete the connection and hit the release code. There's the sound of a large mechanical bolt drawing back inside the door and a blast of blessedly warm air wafts over them. They fall inside and kick the door closed behind them. They lie there for a moment, breathing hard, muscles tensed and shaking.

"Ow, ow, ow," Jack says. "This kind of hurts."

"Hurts a little or hurts a lot?"

"Like pins and needles all over."

"Let me look at you." Jack gets to his knees and Mac checks him over as best as he can. "No signs of obvious frostbite that I can see, but we need to warm up. You read Russian? We need to find the showers."

"You want to take a shower? Now?"

"Can you think of a better way to warm up?"

Jack groans and struggles to his feet. "This was a stupid assignment."

"Hey, at least it's not Chernobyl, right?"

Jack narrows his eyes. "It's a _nuclear_ tub, Mac. I'm withholding judgement until we get off without causing a core meltdown."

"The likelihood of that happening is--"

Jack holds up a hand. "Normal people's likelihoods are not like our likelihoods. I'm withholding my judgement."

"You didn't have to volunteer for this mission."

"Hey, where you go, I go. Even when it is really stupid."

Mac accepts the hand Jack holds out and lets him pull him to his feet. "What's stupid is not taking precautions against frostbite. We can't risk it. We need to warm up gradually."

"Plus you smell like pee."

"It's your pee. And you just held my hand."

Jack curls his lip and makes a flicking gesture with his sullied hand. "We should shower and never speak of this again."

"So you're saying I shouldn't put it in the mission report?"

"I'm saying... we're going looking for a hot shower on a damn nuclear Russian icebreaker stranded in enemy waters and hoping no one catches us at it because showering on the job isn't exactly covert. I think there are a whole lot of things we're going to be leaving out of this mission report." He points to a sign on the wall with a little symbol of a shower followed by a few words in Russian. "I'm guessing we go that-a-way."

They sneak down the hallways, stepping lightly, and find the showers one level down. Mac herds Jack into a small cubicle.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jack hisses.

"We're not splitting up." Mac gets his jacket unzipped with difficulty and pulls his thermal sweater over his head. Clothes are evil, his hands still aren’t working properly, his feet are like blocks of ice, he thinks his _hair_ is frozen, and the thought of warm water right how is heavenly.

"I swear to god, you do this shit on purpose."

"Jack, we have a mission to complete. We're not splitting up just so we can take separate showers."

"This is a mission compatible shower."

"Which is why we're doing it together."

Jack looks heavenward and pulls his shirt over his head. "When we're done I hope your hair looks really stupid."

Mac pushes his pants down over his hips. "You can pretty much count on it."

Jack grumbles to himself as he peels off the rest of his clothes.

"We're going to need to find dry clothes when we're done," Mac says as he starts the shower. "And the water can't be too hot. About a hundred degrees is good." He steps into the water when he's happy he's not going to overheat his sensitive skin and turns his face into the spray. "Oh, man, that feels good."

He opens his eyes and sees Jack standing watching him, still shivering, an unreadable expression on his face.

Mac holds out his hand. Jack hesitates, then takes it and steps into the spray.

"Oh, mama. I take it back. This was a great idea. This was the best idea."

Mac smiles. "Don't rub your skin. Just let it warm you through."

There isn't much room to manoeuvre in the cubicle. They take turns standing in the running water, swaying forward and back. Mac clenches and unclenches his fists. His fingers are sore, but they feel like his own again. He keeps an eye on Jack's progress and breathes easier when Jack's shivers subside.

Jack's eyes are drooping, his shoulder resting against the tiles. "Man, I could actually sleep. Any chance we could Goldilocks this boat and go find bowls of porridge and beds now?"

Mac reaches out without thinking, gripping the back of Jack's neck and squeezing. "Come on, we have a job to finish. I need you with me."

Jack gives a sleepy little smile. "Course you do. Gotta watch your back."

Mac's gaze slips to Jack's mouth, but doesn't linger. He made a promise, one that he intends to keep, even if the fates are clearly laughing at him because they keep putting him in such ridiculous situations.

"I see you're all warmed up," Jack says, dry as the desert, and Mac flushes when he sees Jack looking downward, because that's so very much not his fault. He's all thawed out and it's a natural human reaction to being warm and in such close proximity to all that naked skin and, really, Jack's shoulders are a thing of beauty and his forearms should be illegal.

There's a sharp tap on the door that makes them both freeze. Then someone bangs with a fist and barks an angry question. Mac looks at Jack in horror. He can read passably well in Russian, order a vodka and ask how to get to the hospital, but that's about it.

Jack smirks and whispers, "I got this," then lets out a stream of loud, indignant Russian.

The voice replies, still angry, but sounding a little less certain.

Jack speaks a little more, shorter this time, three syllables he repeats twice. The voice on the other side of the door mutters something and there's the sound of retreating footsteps on metal.

Mac looks at him, eyes wide. "Since when do you speak Russian?"

"Oh, that? That was a quote from Red Heat. What's this country coming to? Something, something. This is like the old days. We're not guilty of anything. That kind of thing."

"'We'?"

"Hey, it worked, didn't it? Then I threw in a little Ivan Drago to really drive it home."

Mac drags a hand over his face. "We need to get out of here." He opens and shuts a few cupboards until he finds one stacked with towels. They wrap up as best they can and pat their skin dry.

"Yeah, I can feel my toes again. Let's go." Jack glances at his watch. "Extraction in thirty. We're never going to get to the servers and out of here in time."

Mac looks around at the wet towels, the copper pipes in the wall, a large fire extinguisher, and opens a lower cupboard to find a box of cleaning supplies. "Actually, I think I can make us a back door."

Jack raises his eyebrows expectantly. "Well? What are we waiting for? Let's go do that thing."

"Can we find some dry clothes first?"

Jack looks down at his naked body. "That would probably be a very good idea."

 

\---

 

As soon as they're done with the debrief, they head back to Mac's place. Jack immediately goes to the terrace and drags a lounger into the sun. He lies down, closes his eyes and lets out a long, contented sigh.

"I am never moving again, except to follow this sunbeam around like a cat. That cool with you?"

Mac smiles down at him. "Me casa es su casa."

"Cool," Jack says. "Then how about a little music and you fire up the grill? I could eat a whale."

"Connect your phone and play whatever you want. I'll go see what we have in the freezer."

Jack cracks open one eye to look up at him. "Where's Bozer?"

"Now that the cat's out of the bag, he's been spending most of his downtime with Leanna."

"I hope those two crazy kids make it work. She's pretty great. Bozer's a lucky guy. So... he won't be around tonight?"

He almost manages to make it sound like an innocent question, but Jack and subtle have never been easy bedfellows.

"Yeah, just us."

"'Kay," Jack says, closing his eye again. "Cool."

The steaks are amazing. They eat two each and steal the remains of Bozer's groceries to make a basic salad and some mashed potatoes. Jack dozes in the sun and Mac alternates between reading and watching him sleep.

When Jack wakes up, he goes from asleep to alert in a heartbeat, sitting up like he's hinged at the waist. He gets up without saying anything and disappears into the kitchen. Mac is expecting a beer, but he gets handed a mug of coffee. He takes a sip and sets it aside, then takes Jack's out of his hand and sets it beside his on the table.

"You, uh, you sleeping over?"

Jack shrugs. "I could. If that's okay."

"Jack, it's always okay."

They watch a movie on Netflix and Mac keeps caffeine out of Jack's reach. It's getting late, pushing midnight, when they begin the self-conscious dance of getting ready for bed. Mac had figured that it would get easier the second time, but possibly the fact that they've been naked together now, or that Jack really doesn't like asking for help are making things even more awkward this time around.

Mac comes back from the bathroom wearing only his jeans to grab his pyjama bottoms but ends up just standing in the middle of the room. He watches Jack futz with his borrowed t-shirt and shorts for as long as he can before he cracks.

"Listen, Jack, I know we said... And that's fine. It really is. But I just want to let you know that I'm here. And I really want... I mean... when you're ready. If you're ready. If that's a thing you want, too."

Jack blushes, darting little glances from under his eyelashes. It's a look Mac could get used to. "You have terrible timing. Better than in a shower on a Russian icebreaker in the middle of a job, granted, but still terrible."

"Do I? Is this terrible? I feel like I have no timing. This is there... just... all the time. It never goes away. I don't know where it came from or when it started exactly but... it's not going away, Jack."

Jack looks at him, really looks at him. "Sweet talker."

Mac sees it coming but he still isn't ready for it when Jack steps in close and kisses him. It's sweet and gentle and Mac feels it _everywhere_.

"You know, I don't usually sleep through the night," he says when they break apart. His lips are tingling and his hands are tight fists because he wants to grab and hold.

"Coulda fooled me."

"No, I mean. I usually wake up a couple of times or I just get a few hours then I get twitchy and need to get up. Bad dreams or just too much going on up top.” He taps his temple. “It's just... since you've been there..."

A slow smile spreads across Jack's face. "You saying what I think you're saying?"

Mac shrugs. "I may find your presence... relaxing."

Jack moves closer. "Relaxing?" He puts his hands on the bare skin of Mac's hips just above the waist of his jeans. His hands are warm and a little rough and Mac _wants_.

"For a given value of relaxing."

"You feeling relaxed right now?"

Mac's heart is thudding against his ribcage. He shakes his head.

Jack moves a little closer. "I may be fostering an unhealthy codependent relationship here, just so's you know."

"Is it wrong that I'm okay with that?"

"Not really the one you should be asking, buddy."

"Can I... can I touch you? Is that okay?"

Jack lifts his chin a little and makes a soft sound that Mac interprets as assent.

Jack is warm and solid, thin cotton over soft skin and hard muscle. Mac actually _shivers_ at the thought of what's to come, but he has to make sure they're on the same page.

"We don't have to... I mean, if you're not ready. This is good right here."

Jack tilts his head, considering. "I'll be sure and holler if you offend my delicate sensibilities. Pretty sure I was playing hard to get before. I'd be willing to jump in the deep end if you are."

"You sure?"

Jack gives him a look, fond and a little patronising. "Sex, Mac. It's just sex. With my male BFF, sure, but I think we'll manage."

Mac lets out an embarrassing sound of want and gets his hands on Jack's face for their next kiss which is a little harder, a little dirtier. Jack walks him back until they hit the wall. Their hips snug together and Mac gasps into the kiss because this is _exactly_ where he wants to be.

Jack pulls back, looking serious. "How do you feel about Bruce Willis in the bedroom?"

"Yet another point towards you not being entirely straight."

"That is _not_ what Dixie said." Jack looks positively scandalised. "I am not--" He looks around like there's suddenly going to be someone else in the bedroom to overhear them, and lowers his voice. "I am not gay for John McClane."

Mac holds up his thumb and finger about an inch apart.

There's a long pause. "So is that no to him in the bedroom?"

"How about we work up to that?"

Jack grins. "Relationship goals. I like it."

Mac smiles back at him, a little goofy and a lot besotted. "Relationship?"

"So long as you never, ever bring up me peeing in your presence ever again."

"Jack," Mac groans.

"Hey, I'm just saying, man. That's twice now. A guy starts to wonder."

"Those were very specific life-saving peeing situations."

"And I hope you notice that I only agreed when it was your life on the line too."

"So it was... romantic peeing?"

"It was _heroic_ peeing and I think we're killing the mood."

"Are you saying we should change the subject?"

"I'm saying no more talking."

 

\---

 

Mac wakes up in the middle of the night. His dreams had been crazy and tangled, lost in a twisting city made up of cluttered rooms, and he'd been searching, searching but couldn't find what he was looking for.

"Hey, Mac." Jack's voice is rusty, rough with sleep. "Bad dream?"

Mac pushes out a long, slow breath. Jack is here with him.

"You okay?" Jack asks, holding out an arm, a clear invitation.

Mac curls up next to him and lets Jack pull him in until they're wrapped up together. "Yeah," he says. "I really am."

"'Kay," Jack says, already drifting. "Sleep now. You can tell me 'bout it in the morning."

Mac closes his eyes.


End file.
